


Ten Years' Growth

by Rhanon_Brodie (Glass_Jacket)



Category: Arctic Monkeys
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, beards on different faces, tough enough portraits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Jacket/pseuds/Rhanon_Brodie
Summary: Born of tough enough portraits and beards on different faces.  A strange companion, perhaps, fitting into all the places I’ve taken these two.  It’s in the details, after all.  Or maybe it's even the antithesis to Hotel Room (Free Love Revival).  I like how this one turned out.  I think this is the first time outside of the Kodachrome verse where Jamie and Alex actually make love <3





	Ten Years' Growth

**Author's Note:**

> Each section is a different POV, starting with Jamie's.

The day is somewhat overcast, but the hint of summer’s heat is in the air. Despite our sullen faces there is a lightness to the mood. We’re tough enough for a camera lens, always a bit of posturing when it comes to the two of us. Who’s the bigger dickhead? Hard to say, really. It’s probably a tie. He smells so good sitting beside me. He feels even better. It never fails, really, no matter how long we’re apart for, once we’re together, there’s no separating us, if it can be achieved, and today is no exception. It’s been a long time coming, almost six months out by now, if it’s a day. Christmas wasn’t nearly enough time for the two of us, it was a whirlwind in London, pubs and tea houses and a bit of how’s your love life. 

At that point he’d barely started sprouting that beard. And now the only thing I can think of, other than the way he leans into me, trying to be so small and elusive, is how that beard is going to feel everywhere. 

And I do mean _everywhere_.

Later, after beers and bottles and babies have been passed round, and we’ve caught up, done the little group thing, we peel off into different bunches. Inevitably, the four of us - myself, Alex, Nick, and Matt - will gravitate towards one another. It’s only natural. From there it’s the matter of another simple paring down. Kids get tired, wives know that there is business to be had, and then quite suddenly it’s just the two of us left.

Me, and Alex.

As I lean back in the California sunset, white stone and stucco blushing madly with the descent, Alex settles next to me, his shoulder digging into my ribs as he works himself into the space under my arm. The dark hair on his head sweeps over my bare arms, and when he turns his head to watch the skyline darken, his jaw scrapes over the inside of my bicep, and the scratching ripples through me like electricity.

I’d be lying if I said the sensation didn’t make my breath catch.

It’s suddenly so easy to be like this, and it makes sense to be like this, to breathe him in and feel his warmth.

“You’re strangely still,” he drawls, reaching to drag his fingertips over my forearm as the breeze kicks up to stir the ends of his hair.

“I’m content,” I reply honestly.

“Fatherhood looks good on you,” he continues. “Done wonders for your patience, eh?”

I chuckle. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I might. This time last year, given an opportunity like this, you would have had me laid out flat on my back, naked, beneath you, in under two minutes.” He chuckles.

I have to join in. It’s true; something in me has tempered. “It’s not like I don’t want you like that again right now,” I admit. I feel rather than see his hand drop to my thigh, fingers pressing into the denim, squeezing muscle, sliding up along the seam on the inside of my leg.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

I shrug against him. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted that. Wanted this. Me, you know?”

The dancing fingertips pause and Alex pushes himself upright, untangling himself from the loop of my arm, and he turns to face me, kneeling on the cushions, between my thighs, as his hands grab my face and hold me steady so that he can stare me down.

“Jamie,” he breathes quite soberly, shaking his head, “You know me better than that.”

“Do I?” I tease. But my hands have already found the dip in the small of his back. From there one drifts lower over the plush curve of his ass, and I remember our time in Germany.

He seems to, as well, because he smiles and hums, and gives a wiggle of his hips. “Better than most.” 

He is such a sight, and he maneuvers over my spread thighs. Closer now, he angles his head over mine, his knees caging my hips, and his chest sliding up over mine. My face is still cupped in his hands and the way his lips suddenly press to mine makes me gasp into his mouth. He pauses only to shrug out of his coat, and then he’s back, fingers combing back through my hair, the fullness of his bottom lip making me weak. I can’t help but sling my arms around his waist and pull him closer, into me, and into us, how we’ve always been.

“Remember,” he pants, pulling back to drop small kisses along my cheekbone, “when _you_ were the one wiv the beard?” He rolls his hips with a sigh and nudges my head back with his, rasping along my jawbone. “How you’d scratch it along my neck, my chest, my thighs?” He hums and presses his face next to mine, fingers wrapping around my hair to pull me upright. 

His beard softly scratches me, and I palm his waist with both hands, thumbs sliding into the grooves of his hips. I groan. Those times were the sweetest, in the desert and then some. The Pacific air brings all of it back, and more.

“Pink an’ red, marked up, an’ all yours,” he carries on, catching my earlobe between his teeth. His breath his warm and sweet as his tongue delicately flicks over my skin. 

My resolve goes up in smoke, not that I ever have any when it comes to Alex. I hold him there, against my ear, shivering as he breathes more words, and my other hand presses down over the front of his jeans, finding him perfectly hard, poised for the taking.

I’ve a feeling, though, that he’ll be doing the taking. Still, I slip his belt buckle open, pop the fly to his jeans as he moans and strokes a hand down the centre of my chest.

“Remember how ruddy and raw you’d make me?”

My heart pounds with the memory of beard burn blooming on his pale skin, my fingertips pressing in white, only to disappear when I let go. The hand I’ve shoved into his hair flexes, and I lead him to my mouth for another taste. I can already feel the tingle in my lips where his whiskers dig. It’s strange and fascinating and because it’s Alex it’s that much more desireable. I have never wanted or longed for someone the way I do for him, and all the ways he turns me inside out before he sets me right again.

He doesn’t expect me to answer, and he’s already slipping down away from my mouth. My fingers curl as I reach for him, but he merely shakes his head and falls to his knees in the space between my feet.

+

“Shall I return the favour?” I ask Jamie, drawing my fingers down his thighs as I look up at him from where I kneel on the stones. “Make you marked and mine?”

He pouts with a nod, and his eyes are dark and hot with anticipation. 

This moment has been brewing all day, whiskey decanted in memories that is spiked with another layer of newness that I didn’t realize was present until I brushed my mouth over his. The ache is there, that feeling of raw nerves quivering that comes with the shaking breath of unchecked emotion. I’ve kissed Jamie a thousand times, done more than that with him just as many times, I think, or at least I’ve dreamed I have. 

Rising from where I’ve been resting on my heels I grab for his shirt, tugging it from where it’s smartly tucked into his jeans, showing off the athletic build that still runs through my mind. He looks good; he’ll always look good, I think, where I’ve a fear of somehow reverting to my awkwardness as I carry on, finding weight in my face, my thighs, my ass. Jamie’s reassurance in Germany, however, has left me buoyant - when I feel I might be dragging, I’ve only to recall the way he split me open and made me beg for reprieve from his gluttony. 

My own gut has been empty for a spell I suddenly realize; my jaws restless, fingers aching to hold onto something. Pushing his shirt up and out of the way I lean in, attaching my mouth to the skin below one nipple, sucking, kissing, licking, moving along the expanse of his chest as my fingers tug his belt and jeans open. He bucks and rubs himself against any part of me he can touch, his groin jerking against my sternum as I chuckle and breathe him in. I’ve missed the inhalation of him.

Pressing my hands into his hips I push him down, hold him steady, as I pull back and lick my lips. Already his skin is starting to become raw; the shape of my lips suits him perfectly, and my mouth waters at the idea of picking him apart one gasping breath at a time. He shifts and sits forward, leaning down to kiss me roughly as both of our hands work double time to open his jeans. He tastes divine, like a fireball, all cinnamon and smoke. If my teeth are hurting him as they snag his lip, he doesn’t say anything, merely kisses me harder, and deeper. It’s something of a competition between us; a lot of things are: who can consume the other the fastest?

When we’ve finally shoved his briefs down and he’s standing proudly in the twilight, he’s got his fingers snared in my hair and he’s pulling me down, begging me to open my mouth, to suck his cock, to take what I want, and to give him the same. I don’t know what’s come over him but I don’t question it. Instead, I accept it, this newly revealed embodiment of compromise and submission, one that begs and pleads and sounds so sweet when he whispers my name.

“Alex,” he sighs, his hips rising, his hands setting against the back of my skull. “Oh, please, Alex. Make me yours. Again and again.”

My gaze sweeps up, his words hitting me hot and fast in the solar plexus, blooming out to my limbs, to blaze in my fingertips that slip over his skin. His head is back, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and his body is tense, waiting.

As lovely as his begging is, he looks too good in my fist, feels too hard and hot and ready to leave him stranded. So, I begin with a broad swipe of my tongue, up the underside, twisting my head so that the tip of him brushes over my nose, my cheek, my jaw, the latter scrubbing whiskers over the thin skin that stretches over his shaft. He whimpers, tightens his fingers, and whispers a plea that I almost don’t hear above the beating of my heart, and the roar of blood in my ears.

“Alex,” he moans, pulling me back to task.

I’m more than happy to comply, and take him deep, and sure, taking everything I can and then some, not stopping until my nose is pressed to the coarse hair at his groin and I can smell the spice of the soap he uses. I claw at his thighs as I swallow around him, and he chokes on a gasp, the muscles of his torso quivering. I stay there, rolling my tongue, sucking, letting him lazily lift his hips to fuck my mouth, and I’m overwhelmed by the care he takes to do so, as if he’s memorizing every flick of my tongue, and the way my hair slips through his fingers. I’m in heaven, full of him, and all other thoughts dim, like someone has turned down the volume knob on the radio that is my mind. Now, it’s just the two of us, the way it always really has been.

Me, and Jamie.

The need to breathe overrides my pleasure and I pull back with a gasp and whine, spit mixed with his arousal making for a long trail that drapes over his thighs, wets my chin, and the lightly furred skin on his belly. “Cookie,” I utter hoarsely, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand rather gracelessly. 

He’s trembling when he whispers, “Give me more,” and I close my fist around his cock and stroke as he pushes his jeans and boxers past his knees, and spreads his thighs further. 

I lean down and batter his inner thigh with kisses, biting at his skin, and I know it hurts because he tenses, and shudders, and yelps. But he doesn’t stop me; if anything he accepts that he’s asked for this, and he welcomes it with a thick moan. I feel like I’m trying to burrow inside, to get back to him, and myself, to something we were both a part of. It’s a rush in my veins, the way he makes my scalp sting, and I return the favour with teeth set into the crook of his pelvis, tugging back against his hold when he arches sharply. Still stroking his cock, I look up at him, dragging my jawline down the length of him, rolling my chin across the very tip of him, mesmerized by the way he holds his breath, and himself in check.

The sky has grown dark overhead, and while the glare from the city lights makes most things disappear, it doesn’t hide the flush in his cheeks, nor the few stars that blink overhead. It doesn’t hide the way he finally looks at me, the way his mouth shapes my name, or his requests. I’ve barely a chance to get my mouth over him again and he’s barrelling inside. My senses crossfire in my brain - the sound of his grunt cancels out the ache in my throat, the tightness in his balls makes me ignore the fact that anyone can see us if they choose to do so.

“Fuck,” I utter, reluctantly pulling back to find my breath. 

I’ve slicked him good now, and he’s unbelievably hard and ready. My thumb pushes up the underside of him, and I’m rewarded with a welling of clarity, one that I lick and suck at greedily, humming as I do so. If he is weak beneath me, then I am of no use on my knees for him, save for this. I could almost cry at the way the air crackles around us, charged with desire, with this base need that was born a decade ago. 

“Missed you,” I hear myself mumble, almost incoherently. 

Frustrated with my inability to form words that can convey everything that is rushing through me, I settle on a groan, and take his cock in my mouth once more. He’s thick, burgeoning with his need for release. Vaguely I’m aware of the heavy ache between my own thighs, and the way my body is moving in some lewd facsimile of how Jamie handles me when I’m in need of it.

Like now.

“God, I need you, Cookie,” I sigh, scraping my cheek along his length again, open mouthed kisses dragging up and down, spit sliding down to ease the way. My fingers tighten at the root of him and he groans loudly, and it touches a flame to the fuse of my arousal. “Need you to come,” I continue, loving the way he pants and nods and makes little sounds of desperation in the back of his throat. “In me mouf, in _me_ , anywhere. I _need_ it,” I say again, emphasizing the word. “Want it,” and here I pause, licking the head of his cock, pressing the tip of my tongue into the groove there before sucking fast, and hard. He cries out sharply, much to my delight. “Crave it,” I say softly, gazing at his cock as it sways before my eyes, and the words _snake charmer_ flit through my head, making me giggle. 

+

The sound of Alex’s giggle makes me crack an eye open. Here I am, poised on the brink of shooting my load down his throat, and he’s giggling.

I missed him so fucking much.

“Wot?” I ask gruffly, tugging at a handful of dark waves on the side of his head. “Hmm?” I reach down and cover that hand he’s got around the base of my cock with one of my own, and I press the tip against his bottom lip. “Wot’s got you in a twist?”

He groans, a smile lighting his features and suddenly my chest tightens. It hasn’t been this easy for us in such a long time; I daresay it’s never been quite like this. I tell myself not to focus on that fact, to just focus on Alex, here with me, like this.

“This cock,” he growls, pushing up from his knees and causing me to groan in frustration. He keeps a hold on me, twisting his wrist and stroking as he moves back into my lap. “This mouth,” he continues, and his lips are soft, cool and wet, and linger with the taste of me. It makes my cock flex in his hand and he smiles against my mouth. “I can’t put all of you, or this moment, into words,” he tells me.

“Bullshit,” I grin, licking at his bottom lip. “It’s what you’re best at.”

He nods, bending his head to watch his fist pumping me, and my fingers tug at his ass and thighs before moving back to where his belt hangs open. “Got notebooks dedicated to what you do to me.” He shivers and looks up at me from under dark lashes as my hand delves beneath the fabric of his underwear. “What I _still_ want you to do to me.”

The tips of his ears turn pink and then he’s moving again, his face in my neck, his beard scoring the skin of my throat.

I’m burning everywhere.

Finding his face with my hands I pull him up to face me, and my brain is still trying to process the image of Alex with a beard. Sure, we’d all taken the piss, but with him hovering in my lap, the jokes of him taking ten years to grow it seem rife with irony. 

“You’re thinking too hard, Jameh,” he breathes, drawing a thumb over my furrowed brow. “Do you want me? Right here, right now?”

“Yes,” I nod. Now seems the right time to kiss him, and I try to show him how much I need him every time our tongues touch, and with the way I hold him in place as each swipe of his whiskered face over my own smooth one only serves to make me twitch and throb in his grasp.

With murmured, wanton sounds he slowly unwinds from my hold. His smile is still in place, and he digs his fingers into his hip pocket, coming up with a familiar foil packet, which he tosses to me before he sets about peeling his t shirt up and off. I follow suit, and both garments sail away somewhere unimportant. Then he’s shimmying out of those snug jeans, but before he can hook his thumbs into his briefs I’m pulling him back to me. I want the honour of sloughing the last layers away.

+

“Your satisfaction is showing.”

Beneath Alex I’m boneless, spent and sweating, and he lifts himself off of my chest, surveying his work with a haughty little “ _humph_ ” which conveys his own satiation. His eyes are still shining in the aftermath as his fingers trace over the raw patches of skin on my chest, my shoulders, my arms, neck, and belly. He drags through the cooling slide of his orgasm, shuddering and biting his lip, his hips still rocking softly, like a moored ship coming to rest after the storm has passed.

“It’s merely your reflection,” I growl back with a grin. This maelstrom is everlasting. “Come back,” I say, looping an arm about his waist and pressing him against me once more.

He does so with an eager hum, slotting himself into the places I’ve made for him, and it’s deep and dark and sweet how well he still fits. I press my lips to his dark head and breathe him in as I melt further into the stones at my back. I’ll be raw there, too, and on the inside, I know, for however long this next era will last. I fight to push the future from my mind, closing my eyes and recalling how only moments before Alex heaved and bounced in my lap, his cock pressed hard between us, my own taken so deeply that I thought I might be able to taste it on his tongue. I have no doubt his knees are bruised, scraped from his campaign to ride me to the ends of the earth until we both careened over the edge, chased by our howling.

“This is different, you realize,” Alex says a heartbeat later. “It always has been, when it comes to us. But it’s different from the different before.” He makes a noise of frustration, and I stay still, and silent, because I can practically hear him processing sentiment to sentences, trying to capture a moment.

“Now who’s thinking too hard?” I finally whisper.

His body shakes with a giggle. “Babeh, you melted me brain.” His thighs flex and he twists his hips, sitting back with a little moan. “Can’t really think to begin with.”

With a bit of effort, I flex where I’m still buried in him, and his eyelashes flutter. “Oh, ho!” he murmurs lowly. “What’s this?”

“Now that I’ve got you, I’m not letting you get away that easily,” I declare. “Only-” My words are cut off as he uses my shoulders as leverage and pushes away. “Wait-” I slip free and watch as he stretches back on the stone bench, arching to resting on his elbows, his knees lazily splayed in invitation.

He crookes a finger at me. “C’mere.”

I’m quick to follow, shaking my feet free where they were still trapped in my jeans, and I am up and over him in half a second, his delighted laughter rising up between us. I capture the hand he’d beckoned me with and nibbled the tip of his index finger before turning his hand over and tracing his palm with my tongue. I kiss the soft heel of it, and then press it down over his head, my grip closing on his wrist.

“Melancholia never suited you,” I admit. I feel his thighs hug my hips and squeeze, and I can’t help the groan I heave as I press down against him.

“It did it’s job when it was needed,” Alex offers, not afraid to admit it. “I’m in a much better place now,” he adds, gazing up into my eyes as he pushes my hair behind my ear.

“And where might that be?” I whisper, leaning into the side of his neck to kiss his pulse.

“Under you, and the stars,” he murmurs, pulling his one hand free from my hold, and then letting them both drift down my spine. “Let’s take it slow,” he muses, arching his hips against mine as he grips my ass and pulls me down.

My mouth finds his, soft, warm, and familiar, and already I’m stirring against the inside of his thigh as the evidence of his own arousal presses into my belly. “Slow?” I ask, moving down to suck at the skin of his pectoral. Turning my head I’m able to sneak my tongue out and swipe it over his nipple, and gooseflesh rises on his chest as he cries out breathlessly. “You don’t think ten years was slow enough?”

“Eleven,” he rasps. “It’s at least eleven, going on twelve.” He hisses when I bite his nipple, grunting as I suck. “God, keep doin’ tha’,” he drawls, fingers still digging through my hair.

“You keep making those sounds and this will be over rather quickly,” I admit with a chuckle, already imaging the heat and the draw of his body.

“Go slow, Jameh, babeh,” he sighs, lifting up as I stroke him between his thighs. His head tips back, and he gasps as I finally slip inside again. He hiccups a breath and tightens his hold as if I might drift on some tide. Dark lashes sweep over his cheekbones, and his mouth is an open smile as he dreamily entreaties, “Make it last.”


End file.
